Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/143

Rh At last, when some wan streaks began to show
 * In the chill darkness of the sky, the fire

Went out, subdued but for the sputtering glow
 * Of sparks among wet ashes. Barn and byre

Were safe, but swallowed all the summer math By fire of wrath.

Still haggard from the night's wild work and pale,
 * Farm-men and women stood in whispering knots,

Regaled with foaming mugs of nut-brown ale;
 * Firing his oaths about like vicious shots,

The farmer hissed out now and then: "Gad damn! It's that black Sam."

They had him up and taxed him with the crime;
 * Denying naught, he sulked and held his peace;

And so, a branded convict, in due time,
 * Handcuffed and cropped, they shipped him overseas:

Seven years of shame sliced from his labourer's life As with a knife.